Splendor in the Grass
by dunedains
Summary: "There is a miracle in being young, and a fear." As an era draws nearer and nearer towards its turbulent end, we take a look at the lives of a tightly knit group of friends. New faces and experiences are coming in due time, all while revolution looms on the horizon. What mark will the 1960's leave upon a handful of - both current and former - J.D.'s?


Chapter I: The Inevitable Exposition

Or

_Blowin' in the Wind_

_**T**_here was a coffee stain on the coffee table. His forefinger had traced the circular mark across the smooth, dark wood so many times that – if anyone had been keeping track – its number would likely be in the 80's range by then. There were heavy footsteps pacing back and forth too, filling the silent air with its consistent beats across the linoleum floor. Every now and again, some trash would be kicked across the room, meeting the wall in a harsh 'bang!', but it had been about thirty minutes since last it had happened by then.

Perhaps his temper had just waned.

Or, perhaps, there was simply no more trash to kick.

The boy continued to trace circles around the stain; and the sound of pacing footsteps faded out eventually, soon followed by the reality around him. It wasn't long before he closed his eyes, and only when he was in the darkness of his eyelids did his mind go back to the beginning of this all.

It was the summer of 1967, and Ponyboy Curtis was very nearly finished with his junior year of High School at Will Rogers – he didn't yet know what he wanted to do with his life, but then what sixteen year old did? Things had, after two years, fallen back into the ebb and flow they'd all known before. The gang would come around more often than not, his nose would be stuck in a book, and life was going on. None of the boys had forgotten – after all, how could they? But they were moving on with their lives, as they had to, and marching on towards what would turn out to be a very tumultuous end to an era.

They didn't know it yet, of course, but it was better that way.

* * *

It was a Friday that things began to really be set into motion. It wasn't dramatic, as it always seems to be in films and other works of fiction, but it was certainly enough to shake up what had become a rather habitual life.

Two-Bit Mathews howled louder than any human should as they rolled on into The Nightly Double. Behind them, the sun was setting underneath the growing darkness of the night's sky; the movie screen a beacon of light in the slow and setting darkness, and Ponyboy could catch only a glance of the setting sun in the rear view mirror. Everyone always swarmed to the drive-in on Friday's, after all four movies in a day was a hard deal to pass up, and the perfect reward to treat yourself to after a long week.

That was how Ponyboy saw it, at least.

Curly Shepard swore from behind the wheel as Two-Bit let out another howl, effectively pulling Ponyboy from his thoughts as they pulled to a stop in front of the screen. They were playing Doris Day's new film, and Ponyboy was fairly certain that by the end of the night, he'd still know only the bare minimal about the movie. He never was able to follow the plot of anything when the guys were around, and in the past two years, his preference to watch most films alone certainly hadn't changed.

"The hell's Two-Bit doing, Pone?" Curly's dark brows were drawn close together as he watched the older guy sidelong. He hit the brake a tad harder than he needed to, and sent the side of Two-Bit's arm into the rim of the window.

"What makes you think I know?"

He scoffed, disappearing for a moment to let Charlie and Rusty out of the trunk. It was funny to Ponyboy the lengths they would all go through to save a few bucks, but then he realised it wasn't really about that, they just got their kicks from doing things the illegal way.

Both guys settled in the back seat after stretching for a minute, joining in on the inquiries about Two-Bit, who had now occupied himself with a new and quieter task. All four guys turned to watch twenty-one year old struggle to put on some white jacket of sorts, though it looked about two sizes too small for his frame. Ponyboy's eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head when he realised what Two-Bit was doing, especially considering it had gotten them all kicked out last time.

"Two-Bit—"

"You'll be thankin' me in a minute, pal." He cut off the youngest Curtis, cocking an eyebrow at the teenager before getting out of the car with a flashlight at hand. "Why hunt for action when I can bring it straight to us, huh? " He waved the torch, and one of his classic chuckles followed.

Ponyboy could only shake his head at the other greaser as he started directing the family-filled cars toward other areas. The last time he'd pulled this stunt, they got threatened with a ban and Two-Bit ended up with a slap from the chick he'd tried to pick up. He'd laughed it off, as always, but Ponyboy was left in a sour mood for the rest of the night. It had been a good movie.

Tonight, it was just re-run flick though; and he wasn't driving. So, truthfully, Ponyboy didn't give a holy hoot what Two-Bit did – especially if it ended with them getting a car full of cute birds next to them.

"I don't get it." Charlie announced, watching Two-Bit as if he were an alien.

"He's directin' the cars full of families or kids to other places, genius." Curly said, grinning wildly in anticipation. "Tryin' to find us a car with some _action_ in it."

"So, he don't work here then?"

"No, Charlie, he doesn't work here." Ponyboy spoke with an exasperated sigh.

They had awhile yet before the movie would start and Rusty had gone off to get the necessary items; cokes, popcorn, and a pack of smokes that they'd all likely finish before the first half of the movie was over. Two-Bit was still diligently checking each car for a few good looking girls, but most of them had turned out to be couples on double dates, people they already knew, or they were just too young.

Pony could tell his friend was getting discouraged, judging by the drop in his enthusiasm by the tenth car that rolled by them.

"C'mon, Two-Bit, sooner or later one of them real employees is gonna come over here and see you screwin' around."

"Shut your trap, kid." He waved off his friend, "I'll find one sooner than later, how 'bout that? You should be more grateful, I'm doin' this whole get-up for you, y'know."

Ponyboy had started a retort, some mix of profanities he hadn't even worked out yet, but Curly had spoken before he got the chance to.

"Why's he doin' this for you?"

Two-Bit laughed, walking over to lean against the window with a serious expression on his otherwise goofy features. "Ponyboy here is on the rebound, and we gotta find him a nice girl to heal his achy brakey heart." The finger that had meant to poke Ponyboy on the chest was promptly slapped away, and Two-Bit responded with a muss of the hair.

"I ain't broken-hearted." He huffed.

"You an' Cathy break up?" Charlie asked, though his tone didn't seem all that concerned – he was much more interested, it seemed, in shadowing Two-Bit's little quest.

Ponyboy shrugged. "Yeah. It's not a big deal."

He meant it too.

He wasn't all that torn up about it, being able to read the signs pretty well despite his slight inexperience with relationships – which was an understatement, really, as she was his first girlfriend. They'd ended things early on, and Ponyboy was thankful for that to say the least – if they'd kept up with it, he'd sure as hell be more broken up about things. Cathy was a real nice girl; genuine, funny, and smart even. Most of the time girls like that weren't very interested in guys like him, and it turned out he was right about that in the end. Cathy was still in love with Bryon, and however hard she tried to move on, it was always Bryon that she saw when she looked at him. Ponyboy really did like her, but she liked someone else; and there wasn't much else to be said on the matter.

It wasn't as though High School relationships lasted long, anyway.

Curly made to speak just then, but Two-Bit's triumphant whistle could likely have shut up an entire orchestra. They three remaining guys in the car all craned their necks to see what was coming up, and right away the sight of four girls in a Beetle greeted them. Two-Bit managed to sneak away just at the right moment, scampering off to relieve himself of his disguise undoubtedly.

Charlie rolled down his window promptly, whistling to catch the attention of the driver. A pretty blonde responded with a look of annoyance, but her sudden irritation seemed to be lost on him.

"Here we are waitin' for the show to start, and here rolls in the real money makers."

Ponyboy and Curly exchanged glances.

"Who taught you talk so smooth, huh? Your mama?" One could almost mistake her tone for being endearing, if not for the glint in her eyes and bite in her tone. Charlie sure as hell fell for it – or nearly did, if not for Curly and Ponyboy's telling laughs. He waved them off, a defeated look on his face as he sank back into his seat.

"Aw, no need to play it off like that, baby." Two-Bit reappeared then, free from the constraints of his too-small uniform. "Now, I know our devilishly good looks are hard to handle, but—"

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Trust me, doll, I flatter myself plenty."

"Oh I'm sure you do, Two-Bit."

"See, now you're flatterin' me by knowin' by name."

"Well I'd rather not know it, to tell you the truth."

Two-Bit clutched at his chest, eliciting a laugh from the guys in the process, and stumbled a bit. He fell to his knees, grasping onto the blonde's car as though it were all that was keeping him alive, and despite the comic situation, Ponyboy had a stray thought that Two-Bit would have done good taking a drama class.

"You wound me, doll. 'm afraid a kiss is all that can cure me now."

"Guess you're out of luck then, pal."

"What're you doing botherin' these young ladies, Two-Bit?" Rusty reappeared then, handing off the popcorns to the guys still in the car. Ponyboy noticed immediately the lack of cigarettes in his possession.

"Like they could bother us." The blonde replied with a laugh, turning to her two friends to say something else – Ponyboy couldn't quite make it out, but Rusty and Two-Bit laughed.

"I'm gonna go get some cigarettes." Ponyboy said, though only Curly regarded it.

"Get me some Lucky's." He slapped some change into the other guy's hand, and as soon as Ponyboy got out of the car he slid over to the passenger's side to be closer to the car.

Ponyboy hadn't made it two steps before Two-Bit seized him around the neck and pulled him over to where he stood. "Now, this here is my buddy Ponyboy—" A hard slap on Pony's back followed, "And he's a real good kid. Ain't got a bad bone in his body, I swear t' god. Look at 'im, already blushin'…"

Two-Bit poked at his heated cheek, causing the younger of the two to retort with a rough shove. It would have, perhaps, been a good moment for some kind of smart remark, but Ponyboy couldn't think of one on account of the fact that he just wanted to get as far away from Two-Bit, or embarrassment, as quickly as possible. He stalked away towards the concession stand, passing the seating in the back of the lot with a slight glance towards a few familiar seats. It was a habit – neither good nor bad – that he'd obtained about five months after Johnny and Dallas had died.

And just then, as he stood in the short line for some cigarettes, all he could think of was standing in that very spot two years ago with Cherry Valance – was it two years though? Some days it felt like just yesterday, and others it felt as though a hundred years had passed. Whatever it was, he felt that if he were to just close his eyes for a moment, he'd open them to find himself wearing a sleeveless sweatshirt and there would be a pretty redhead beside him. And he'd tell her things he wouldn't usually tell anyone, and they'd talk about how different their lives were, yet how similar they could be at the same time. Then he would walk back to his seats to find a jumpy greaser waiting for them, and somewhere else would be a tow-headed delinquent on the receiving end of Tim Shepard's fist. But that was a different life – a dream, even, and all the dreaming in the world wouldn't make his fantasy so.

He learned that a long time ago.

"Excuse me?" A soft voice and a tap on his shoulder pulled him away from daydreams, and Ponyboy met the gaze of a girl. "Are you in line?"

"Wh—oh, uh… yeah, sorry." While lost in his own melancholy world, he'd failed to realise that he was up next in the concession line. "You can go before me, I… yeah, sorry about that."

She smiled. "It's alright." Ponyboy moved to the side to let her pass him, making an active effort not to fall too deep into his own thoughts again.

He recognised the girl from his school, and was fairly certain that they'd had a class together his sophomore year, but he couldn't put his finger on a name. He was usually pretty good in that department, too. Though to be fair, Ponyboy had spent most of his sophomore year pining over Cathy Carlson anyway.

Not to be regarded as his highest point.

"A quarter?" He overheard the Girl say, and she rummaged through her jacket pockets. "Sorry, just—I don't think I've got a quarter…"

Any decent cashier would have given her the food anyway, but the bored looking girl behind the register didn't budge.

"Here—" Ponyboy took a step forward, placing the coin on the counter.

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that." The Girl said, regarding Ponyboy with a look of both relief and embarrassment. "I shouldn't even be buying these."

Green eyes came into contact with the merchandise, and the corners of his lips twitched slightly. "Marlboro reds, huh?" She looked away. "I was gonna get those too, what d'ya say we split 'em?"

She raised a brow. "So, you would get them on the weekends and I'll take them during the week?"

He laughed.

So did the Girl.

The cashier cleared her throat.

Ponyboy returned to the two cars a few minutes later, one pack and a half of cigarettes at hand, though the scene had changed rather drastically. A small, round woman – the same manager that had kicked them out last time, as he'd remember a moment later – and her tempers were focused mainly on Two-Bit, naturally, who was replying to her with his typical smart-ass comments that would result in one thing and one thing only.

"Really now, Miss...y"—he focused just a little longer than he should have on the name tag upon her breast—"I think you're overreactin'! You got me mistaken with someone else, 'cos I'd never—"

"Oh yeah? Well three guys that you directed somewhere else seem to disagree, seein' as they all saw you change out of _our_ uniform."

"Y'know, jumpin' to conclusions really ain't a healthy thing to do…"

"I got half a mind to ban ya'll from coming back here again!"

"Half a mind?" Ponyboy knew that grin. Oh glory. "Honey, I didn't think you even had a third of one."

She threw her hands up in the air.

"The movie hadn't even started yet, Two-Bit, I think that's a new personal record for you." Ponyboy let his head fall against the car seat, cringing slightly in anticipation for a slap on the head that would never come.

"Jumpin' to conclusions, she was, and the cops are already on my back about that those slashed wheels… thinkin' I did it." Two-Bit scratched his head.

"You _did_ do it, Two-Bit," said Curly. He didn't seem to mind so much that they'd just been kicked out of The Nightly Double, but Curly never minded anything. He just took what came with a grin on his face, trying to find the appealing aspect in whatever it was.

"Shoot, they don't gotta know that! C'mon, it didn't end up so bad." He waggled his eyebrows at Charlie and Rusty beside him, both of which had their arms crossed like petulant children. "I talked that girl and her friends into meetin' us at Val's, didn't I?"

"They're only goin' on account of you sayin' you'd pay for their burgers." Said Rusty.

"Yeah, well they're still goin', ain't they?"

"We still paid for a damn useless movie ticket though,"

"Shut up Charlie, you rode in the trunk." Ponyboy rolled his eyes.

"Well I didn't even get to see Doris in that skimpy ol' outfit on the posters…" Charlie sighed, casting a side-glance at Two-Bit with a betrayed look etched on his features. The latter merely shrugged.

"Ain't nobody here's as torn up about that as me, pal."

Val's Diner was a new establishment in Tulsa, right on the edge of the east end of the city. It was a small place, not able fit more than about 40 people comfortably, decorated in the typical diner décor; but there wasn't a place within 50 miles that had a better burger or chocolate milkshake. Most of the greasers had moved in rather quickly on the place, asserting it as their territory in case the rich kids got any wise ideas. Ponyboy didn't really see the point in it. Ever since what happened, with Johnny and Bob, the classes didn't really clash all the much anymore. There were still a few guys who clung on to the old ways, but it was quickly dissipating.

Two-Bit had filled Ponyboy in on who the girls were as they drove to the diner, seeing as he had "took too damn long" at the concession stand.

The blonde girl, the driver, was Marty Warren – younger sister to James Warren, who Ponyboy and the guys were actually acquainted with, he was the leader of one the gangs on the east end – he couldn't remember the name just then though; not as showy as the Shepard's, and not as tough, but reliable. According to Two-Bit, she had quite the mouth on her, and Charlie and Rusty were both taking bets on which guy would get her to go with who.

She wouldn't go with either of them, that was for sure.

She was a year behind Ponyboy, a sophomore, and apparently had some big rivalry with Angela Shepard – he'd never heard anything about it, though. Her friends were Birdie Lugosi, Marie Parker, and Prue Greenberg. The only name Ponyboy had recognised was Birdie's. She was the younger sister of one of the guys in Tim Shepard's gang, and her family owned an Italian restaurant not far from where Steve lived. They'd been there a few times, but Darry didn't like eating out too much, they didn't have the money for it. She was a year ahead of Ponyboy's at school, but he had never spoken to her.

"What's takin' them so long?" Rusty groaned, sliding into the corner booth they'd chosen. Ponyboy could, from the corner of his eye, make out several faces of displeasure among the other occupants. He could practically hear the '_damn_ _kids'_ they'd withhold.

"Well, ain't we just the luckiest guys in town? We've got the four cutest birds in town comin' to see us." Charlie rubbed his hands together, apparently unaware of the group of girls nearing their table.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Romeo, we're only here for the fries not the company." Marty slid in the booth to sit beside Two-Bit.

"Not the milkshakes, too?" Ponyboy added.

"The milkshakes especially." Another of the girls spoke, and he was rather taken back to see she was the Girl from earlier. Her brown eyes regarded him with a knowing look, a small smile creeping to her lips in response to what could only be his look of surprise.

"Better get 'em then." Two-Bit walked over to the counter, never being patient enough to wait for the waitress to come and take the order.

"You know each other, Marie?" A girl with long, dark hair inquired – that one was Birdie.

"Yeah, we share custody of a pack of cigarettes." Ponyboy said.

"Hey ain't you the girl that works down at Mclures?" Curly pointed his spoon in the direction of Marty, "Lifeguardin' right?"

Mclure's Municipal Pool had, rather quickly since it's opening back in '63, become one of the favourite places for kids to frequent in the summer months.

"Don't remind me."

"That's a real nice red swimsuit they make you wear, y'know." Karl winked, followed shortly by an audible – and rather high-pitched – 'ouch!' when his foot was stomped on by Marty.

"Creep," came the blonde's accusatory tone, though it seemed more for show. She didn't really seem all that bothered by the comment – she was used to the attention, most likely. The management there only ever seemed to hire those who were aesthetically pleasing to the eye, and Ponyboy wasn't sure if people went there to swim or just try and drown on purpose.

"What about you, doll, I ain't seen you around before." Charlie leaned back against the booth, inclining his head towards Marie. Some colour found her cheeks then, as all the attention turned towards her.

"What about me?"

"You new?"

"She's not new – well, not really." Birdie answered for her friend, putting an arm around the other's shoulders. "Just came back in from Oklahoma City, but she used to live around here."

"Huh. We don't get a lot of fresh meat 'round this time of year." Said Karl.

"She's not a piece of meat, creep!" The girl who had yet to speak piped in

"Who're you, doll? Didn't catch your name." Curly said.

"Prue." Was her simple reply.

Not one for conversation, apparently.

"Here." Two-Bit came back just then, placing a few of the glasses down along with the milkshake tin. "And you're already hangin' around with The Kids?" He spoke to Marie, who nodded.

The Kids. That's what they called themselves. It had started back in the 50's – right after Rebel Without A Cause came out – and a few students would get together to form the band of Greasers, usually passing on the torch after they graduated. It wasn't the same kind of thing as Tim Shepard's gang, or even Ponyboy's; they were a real watered down version of a Greasy gang. They'd be all about pranks and fights in the cafeteria, but outside of Will Roger's they weren't that tough.

The change came after James Warren became the head of the gang though, after the last guy went on to college, and now they were starting to branch out. The guys had been at the rumble – the one after everything happened with Bob two years back – and they really came through.

"Honorary member and everything, we even got her a pin." Marty grinned, and Ponyboy honestly couldn't tell whether or not it was a joke. _Pins_. It seemed the kind of thing they'd do.

"Jus' like that?"

"Well, Two-Bit, I did have to kill a man. But people are usually so touchy about that sort of thing…"

Two-Bit guffawed, "You dig okay, baby."

That was certainly the easiest way to make good in Two-Bit's books – make some kind of morbid joke, and you'd be the best of friends.

And with that little comment, the ice seemed to break.

"You're joking!" Birdie managed to say at last, after having been laughing for nearly thirty seconds straight; consequently, the rest of the table had laughed in response to her outburst. The food had come in by then, and they'd all dug in immediately, talking between bites and quickly becoming the loudest table there.

The night was becoming a lot better than Ponyboy had originally thought it would be, and while he'd never really spoken to any of the girls before, save Marie, he was pretty glad to find they were all alright.

"Naw, baby, I knocked him clean off his bike!" Two-Bit wiped an eye, revelling in his memory.

"With an Oreo? An Oreo Creme Sandwich?" Prue repeated the story he'd told a few moments earlier, clearly in disbelief that Two-Bit could have knocked a full-grown man from his bicycle by throwing a mere cookie at the guy's head.

"I never joke about these kinda things." He punched Ponyboy in the shoulder. "Tell 'em, Pone."

"Clean off his bike." Ponyboy repeated, a short chuckle following. "I was there."

"Why?" Birdie asked.

"'Cos I had oreos." Two-Bit shrugged.

"That may be the strangest thing I ever heard…" Curly scratched his head.

He hadn't done anything illegal all night, Ponyboy noticed idly.

"That's what you get for not wearin' a helmet, I guess." Said Marie thoughtfully.

"A good thing to take from that story, Marie." Marty laughed.

"That's a waste of Oreos." Charlie decided, and the table dissolved into laughter once again.

(The Val's parking lot)

"It was only a matter of time, I guess." Ponyboy's arms were crossed over his chest, head tilted only slightly to the side as he watched Curly Shepard from the other side of the parking lot. The other teenager had recognised one of the cars in the lot to belong to a rather pig-headed guy from their school – John or Jim – and took it upon himself to get the guy back for vandalising Curly's locker earlier that week. His definition of "getting back" at Jim or John, however, didn't exactly classify as harmless.

"What is he doing?" Charlie asked, appearing beside Ponyboy.

"Keying a car."

"Oh, right." Charlie nodded, turning to go back inside. He stopped though, turning back to say one last thing: "Think I'm gonna get lucky with that Marty bird." He winked, and then he was gone.

Ponyboy would have joined him, as it was getting cold fast, but he wanted to have a smoke anyway and Val's was one of those "no-smoking" joints.

Ridiculous, in his opinion.

Besides, smoking was a good thing to do when you needed to think and Ponyboy really, _really_ needed to think. He had been putting it off rather well thus far – by thinking about other things – but it always seemed to catch up with him eventually. But, thinking about it would mean confronting the problem in the first place, and that wasn't something he was yet ready to do. Then again, now as he was thinking about it and trying to find a loophole, the greaser was merely avoiding the plain fact of it all. And that fact was that this was all entirely his fault.

"Hey."

He wasn't proud of it, but he jumped at the sudden voice. Marie made an attempt to hide her laughter, which he appreciated, but she ultimately failed at it. He made a face.

"Sorry. I—uh, what's he doing?" Brown eyes widened at the sight of Curly, laughing rather wildly to himself as he scraped words of profanity into the fine, red paint of a Cadillac.

"Exactly what it looks like he's doin'."

"Is this a normal thing for him to do?"

Ponyboy shrugged. "He's done worse."

They all had.

"Right." She leaned against the wall, and a comfortable silence between them. Ponyboy figured that he'd ought to break it though. Two-Bit would never let him live it down if he'd passed up the chance to chat up a cute bird – she beat him to it, though.

"Is it a habit of yours? Watching your friends vandalise property."

"Up there with collectin' stamps."

"I pegged you as more of a spoon collector."

"Spoons?"

"Mm, all lined up real nice above your bed or something. Polishing them once a week – maybe twice, if you were in a good mood."

"Nah, too much work."

"Being lazy is a bad habit, you know."

"So is smoking, apparently."

"Hah. Is Ponyboy your _real_ name?"

"It is." His expression soured slightly, "And don't be giving me no grief about it, neither. I happen to like it." He failed to see the big fuss about it really. His name was original — like Cherry had said once — and a bit of his dad's creativity that he could carry around with him forever.

Marie's mouth fell open, and she shook her head, clearly having felt the sting of his words. "Oh— I didn't— I mean, I just thought it may be a nickname or something. I think it's cool, you hear loads of Paul's and Billy's, but you never hear Ponyboy."

He kicked a twig, and another silence fell between the two, though it was not nearly as comfortable as the first.

"M'sorry." He'd spoken rather softly, unsure at first whether or not Marie had even heard the sentiment.

"It's alright."

"Nah, I'm a dumba—"

"No, really, it's alright." She smiled. He thought it looked a bit forced. "Anyway, I guess I should get back in. I think Marty's gonna kill your friend Charlie, and I don't really wanna miss that."

"Wait."

She stopped at the door, looking back with an expectant expression.

"Why'd you come out here?"

"Fresh air…" Her reply seemed to be posed more as a question than an answer, and Ponyboy blew the smoke from his nose in a silent reply. "Two-Bit told me to check on you."

"'Course he did."

"Why are _you_ out here?" Her hand dropped from its place on the door handle, and she moved to lean against the wall once more in waiting for his reply.

"Smokin', babysittin'." He gestured both to the fag in his hand and Curly across the lot. He hesitated a moment, but spoke again after taking another drag. "Thinkin', mostly."

Marie nodded, moving her windswept hair from her eyes. "Smoking and thinking in a parking lot? You could be in one of those foreign films."

Ponyboy arched an eyebrow. "The ones where some guy talks in French while the characters look miserable?"

"That's them, yeah."

"Oh boy, oh boy."

"So?"

"So?"

"What, you can't just take stoic drags from your cigarette and tell me you came out here to think just to expect that I wouldn't want to hear all the details!"

He considered her for a moment. It was a universally accepted fact that it was easier to divulge your thoughts and secrets to a perfect stranger, rather than a best friend or brother, for example. Why that was, however, Ponyboy wasn't exactly sure. Some people were easier to talk to, while others were just the downright worst but… it was different with someone you barely knew. There was less of a chance of harsh judgement in most cases, or selfish thoughts. Ponyboy himself was guilty of it – someone would go to him for advice or to share some significant problem and his mind went first to how this would affect himself before refocusing to the actual person in need. It was a damned thing.

"You're just being more mysterious by not answering, you know." Said Marie, her eyebrows having risen. "You don't have to tell me, though. I was just—"

"You a good listener?"

(7:45am, that morning)

Two years; seven hundred and thirty days; one hundred and four weeks; thirty-six months; there were a lot of ways to say it. Whichever way one would choose, however, made no difference to the irrefutable fact that Sodapop Curtis, in all that time, still hadn't quite gotten over his heartbreak concerning a girl named Sandy. There were loads of cliché sayings about your first love – how you never forget, never quite move on, and plenty more than Ponyboy couldn't actually recall. But, the clichés didn't help reinforce hope in the Curtis' that their middle brother truly could move on from his plight. It was just a shame that "there are plenty of fish in the sea" didn't work its magic as well as the other ones were.

He'd seen a few girls between then and now, but nothing ever seemed to last too long. It wasn't until a few months prior that they'd really broken through with Soda, for he had actually had a girl over for dinner with Darry and Ponyboy. It was slow progress, but it was progress.

So, when Ponyboy held the envelope in his hand, the familiar return address written in lofty cursive, he knew this could only end one way: badly.

The steam from the shower had made it easy to open the envelope – which he would later reseal as to avoid any evidence of it being read. It was wrong to be reading her words, and he was definitely crossing a line by doing so… but, he and Soda told each other everything, didn't they? It wasn't as though Soda wouldn't have told him and Darry about it eventually, and they'd read the poorly written letter then (only one hundred and seventy two words to make up for two years).

He was just reading it a bit earlier than he would have been otherwise.

Or that's what he told himself while showering, anyway. It was a good place to think about things – or convince yourself that you're not doing something you shouldn't be.

Now, Ponyboy wasn't certain, but he had a pretty good idea what would happen once Soda read the letter. He'd likely be quiet for a few days, hate himself for going to meet Sandy, get his heart broken again, and then it would take two years for Darry and Ponyboy to help him work through it – again.

Unless…

"No."

He grunted, shutting off the water.

"No way."

He dried his hands on the towel before fixing it around his waist.

"Absolutely not."

He took hold of the letter before returning to his room.

It was a tempting thought though, one not so easily thwarted by his verbal deterrence. It would be so easy to just hide the letter away in one of his drawers, or let it hover over the oven's flame… it would be best for Sodapop, certainly, besides she had no business reopening wounds they'd worked so hard to sew on up. It would be so easy. Too easy. Ponyboy pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans, letting the letter rest in one of his drawers for the time being. He didn't need to decide just then, anyhow.

A scoff. Decide? There was nothing to decide. It wasn't any of his business. The letter was addressed to Sodapop – not Ponyboy – and that was all there was to it. No, he'd give Soda the letter… just not at that exact moment. The guys were over, and he figured that his brother would want to get something like that in private.

Yeah. He'd just wait awhile, think it out.

* * *

"Wait," said Marie, holding a hand up to halt his speech. "Let me get this straight. You're hiding your brother's ex-girlfriend's letter? The girlfriend who was pregnant with someone else's baby and didn't marry your brother – _Sodapop_ – and then ignored him, and moved to Florida to have the baby?"

"Yeah, there's still more to… y'know."

"Oh, right, go on then."

He'd started to talk again, but she stopped him once more.

"Is your brother's name really Sodapop?"

He narrowed his eyes.

"_Sorry_. Go on,"

(8:45am, that morning)

Steve Randle was not what one, or he himself, would particularly describe as "nosey". Rather, he was simply curious by nature. Such curiosity that often got him in trouble, of course, like that time at the rodeo or before that at Buck's with the funky bull-ride, or even that time he and Sodapop had filled his old man's gas tank with water "just to see what would happen".

But that had little to do with the current dilemma.

That being the opened letter addressed to Sodapop on Ponyboy's desk – or, more accurately, it had been _inside_ of Ponyboy's desk; he'd gone rummaging for some aspirin and while he didn't find the medication, he found _this_.

It certainly didn't make his headache any less painful.

Under other circumstances, the mechanic would most likely have responded to such a discovery by giving the kid an earful – and maybe a slap on the head – before making him tell Sodapop, but this was a very rare case. Sandy's name and the overall topic of her had become a taboo of sorts over the past two-years, even more so than Dally and Johnny's names when it came to Soda individually, and the boys had done well not to mention her around Soda – not even under unkind terms.

But, now she was back.

The edges of the letter crumpled in his hands.

"The hell are you doing?" Ponyboy stood at the door, both anger and dread in his green eyes.

"So, he told Sodapop?" Both teenagers were sitting on the sidewalk by then, passing the cigarette between the both of them.

"I'm gettin' to it."

"What are you doin' takin' your brother's mail, huh?"

Steve was, truthfully, the kind of person who could get angry about anything.

"What are _you_ doin' goin' through my shit?" Ponyboy retorted immediately.

"Hey, watch it, smartass! You wanna wake up the entire house?" He threw the letter at the youngest of their gang, though it only made it as far as the unmade bed. "What the hell is this, huh?"

"What does it look like, genius?"

They'd both resorted to speaking in hushed tones, though their tempers could still be heard. It was, surely, a ridiculous scene to behold, but both young men were too upset to notice the humour in their situation. Ponyboy had snatched the letter up from the bed, smoothing out the crumples Steve had made a few moments earlier. The older of the two merely huffed at the other, crossing his arms while Ponyboy folded the letter back into the light blue envelope – just like Sandy's eyes.

Steve wasn't really angry with Ponyboy, for his anger was directed instead towards the sender of the letter in the first place. What was she thinking? Sending a letter to Sodapop two years after breaking his heart… she had no right to even think about his best buddy, not anymore. She'd lost that right, in Steve's mind, after she went out behind his back.

"What are you gonna do about it?"

"What am I gonna do about it," Ponyboy repeated, incredulous, "I'm gonna give it to him, obviously!"

"You can't do that!"

"What?" Ponyboy laughed out loud. "You were just on my case for takin' it in the first place and now you don't want me to give him his damn letter?"

"Don't be stupid, you didn't have any intention of givin' him that!"

"Fuck off, Steve, you don't know shit about what I was gonna do!"

A third voice broke their whisper-debate. "Hey, Steve-o, you get the aspirin?"

They both turned to see Sodapop, and on instinct Ponyboy shoved the letter back in his drawer, earning a strange look from his older brother. Luckily, he didn't pursue the topic, but rather looked at Steve expectantly for a reply.

"Uh—couldn't find any."

"I got you, buddy. It's in the back of the drawer, just saw it last night when—"

"No!" Steve beat Ponyboy to the punch, putting his hands up to stop Soda from coming any further into the room.

The golden-haired greaser raised an eyebrow, and Steve squirmed under the scrutinising gaze of both brothers.

"I don't got a headache no more anyway," Steve cleared his throat, "Don't gotta worry about it, man."

"Okay," Soda spoke slowly, "I'm just gonna get some water and then we can go, alright?"

"Sure thing."

And he was gone.

Ponyboy let out a breath that he didn't even realise he was holding.

"What the—"

"Not a word, smartass." Steve walked towards the door, after his friend. He stopped just before exiting, looking at Ponyboy with a grave sort of expression. "I mean it. We… we gotta figure something out about that letter, alright? For Soda's sake. Just… we'll talk about it later, okay?

And then he was gone, too.

* * *

Back in the present, Ponyboy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Marie didn't say anything for a moment, instead staring at a piece of gum in the street intently. He didn't say anything to interrupt her silence, as she had to be deep in thought about what he'd said.

No one looked at gum that intently when nothing was on his or her mind.

"Are you going to give it to him?"

"I don't know." He spoke honestly, crushing the cigarette bud beneath his sneaker's toe.

"You should, you know," She paused, "Before it goes too far."

"I know."

She might have said something else, but whatever it would have been was cut off by the sudden entrance – or exit – into the parking lot by a guy Ponyboy recognised as the owner of the Cadillac. He was yelling something at Curly, with a few of his friends close behind him, and it wasn't long before Two-Bit and Rusty were busting out of the Diner too. Ponyboy stood up, able to recognise the start of a fight from a mile away, and so did Marie – though she didn't follow him to where they were all standing, but remained behind to be joined by the other girls.

"The fuck did you do to my car?"

"Improved it," Curly quipped, blowing his key as though it were a gun in a Western film, "Don't worry, pal, I did you a favour. Now everyone'll know you're a real 'big cock' every time you drive on by."

He read the words he'd etched onto the car with pride, and Ponyboy exchanged glances with Two-Bit.

It wasn't two seconds before the guy's fist connected with Curly's jaw, knocking the kid back a few steps. He'd been expecting it though, hell, Ponyboy was rather certain that he _wanted _a fight with Jim or John – he really ought to have remembered this kid's name – from the moment he'd walked in Val's Diner earlier. Curly jumped on Jim or John, pinning him against the asphalt as they all formed a circle about the brawl.

The guy's friends and more onlookers were stopping Two-Bit and Ponyboy from getting close enough to break it up, apparently more concerned with seeing it play-out than the well-being of both parties involved.

Ponyboy got through eventually though, thanks to Two-Bit pulling one of the guy's back rather harshly, and instantly pulled Curly back by his arms while Rusty handled Jim or John. They were both shouting profanities at the other, and in the chaos, Ponyboy hadn't even realised that the cops had arrived.

"Shit man, we'd better get out of here." Curly said, spitting blood on the pavement.

Ponyboy nodded, grabbing Curly's keys from the floor and whistling at Charlie to join them in their hasty retreat. They all piled into the Chevy, and Ponyboy started the ignition just as the cops started yelling at everyone to stay put.

He caught only a flash of light brown hair where he'd left Marie, before they too got in Marty's car to split.

"Come on, kid!" Two-Bit was tapping the driver's seat repeatedly with his palm, and Ponyboy wasted no more time getting them out of there.

(Thursday morning)

"You didn't put in enough sugar again, Darry." Sodapop Curtis' nose wrinkled in slight distaste as he looked at the cake before him, a small slice already taken from the chocolate treat. Darrel Curtis Jr. merely sighed in response to his younger brother, lowering the newspaper from his nose as a scoff left his lips.

"No, I put just enough sugar. Not the whole damn thing like you do, little buddy."

"I don't put the whole thing." Soda returned, crossing his arms. "I make it just right, y'know, how sweet things are supposed to taste and all."

"You won't be happy til' we've all got diabetes."

"Who's got diabetes?" Steve came in then, not bothering to knock – though who ever did? "'Cos that ain't somethin' I'm lookin' to contract…"

"Diabetes ain't contagious, genius." Ponyboy yawned, walking through the kitchen with damp hair.

"Can it, smartass."

Two-Bit sat up from his position on the couch, having been awoken from his slumber by all the banter. "You're the college kid now, Steve-o, ain't you supposed t' be the genius?"

"Takin' a few engineerin' classes don't make me some sorta Ivy Leaguer, Two-Bit."

They'd all been rather surprised when Steve had told them about his classes – it wasn't college or anything so fancy, but some courses that the community centre had offered. Ponyboy had tried to talk Sodapop into joining his friend – he still wasn't so hot on the fact that Soda had dropped out, after all – but his brother shrugged it off; he wouldn't be able to get the time off work, he already knew engineering backwards and forwards, and so on and so forth. Steve seemed to enjoy the classes though, or so Ponyboy had gathered from his lack of complaint.

"What time did you guys get in last night?" Darry asked from the table, immediately thereafter hollering at Two-Bit to turn the television's volume down. He had a thing about noise lately, Ponyboy had noticed, but that wasn't exactly surprising considering he had to endure the four loudest guys in all of Tulsa everyday.

"I don't know… about twelve thirty, I think." Ponyboy pondered it for a moment, remembering the small detour Two-Bit had taken to swipe some cigarettes from an unknowing gas station attendee. "You two were already passed out cold – could hear you snorin' from three blocks away, Dar."

"Yeah, yeah." Darry shook his head, though a small grin could be seen on his lips before the newspaper was brought up to hide the feature.

"Hell, it was crazy night." Two-Bit stood up, walking to sit atop the kitchen counter.

"Well, don't leave us hangin', Two-Bit, we're all just dyin' to hear who turned you down this time." Sodapop narrowly avoided a smack, winking at his younger brother as he passed to get a glass of chocolate milk.

"Hey, I heard Curly Shepard started a fight with Joel Minetti at Val's." Steve added.

So, it was _Joel_. Ponyboy scoffed – "Jim or John" – he wasn't even close.

"Val's? The diner? I thought you went to The Double with those guys from your school?" Darry cut in, brows furrowing as he set the newspaper back down on the table.

"Nah, Two-Bit got us kicked out before the damn movie even started." Ponyboy didn't keep the bitterness from his tone; it was the very reason he preferred seeing pictures by himself, after all. "Pretended he was workin' there, guidin' the cars around and all that."

Steve and Sodapop guffawed, looking at Two-Bit with a mix of admiration and amusement. Darry and Ponyboy exchanged disapproving glances.

"As I was sayin', we picked up some girls from The Double, right? An' we charm them into goin' to Val's with us—"

Ponyboy scoffed. "You didn't charm anybody, Two-Bit, they got kicked out too on account of your dumba—"

"What is it with ya'll and interrupting me this mornin'? Christ, anyway, we all go to Val's and have an alright time, yeah? And get this," he fished into his pocket, pulling out a torn piece of napkin, "I got Birdie's number."

"Ain't you a bit old to be goin' for the High School types?" Steve inquired, unimpressed.

"They like older men." Two-Bit took a sip of his beer – at ten in the morning.

"They wouldn't be givin' you their numbers if that was the case, buddy." Soda chimed in, grin splitting across his face before he even managed to finish his sentence. A death threat followed, but the boys were well used to them by then.

"Hold on, I'm forgettin' the second best part here. Your kid brother – not you Steve, sorry – hit it off with one of them gals; Maggie." His eyebrows waggled.

Their interest did, much to the offense of Ponyboy, seem to pique at that.

"It was Marie, idiot." Green eyes rolled, "And, we only talked for a few minutes."

"You get her number?" Steve asked.

"Nah."

"The hell did you talk about that wouldn't have gotten you her number, smartass?" Steve spoke all in one breath.

Ponyboy paled slightly, remembering with anguish the moment in which he'd snapped at the poor girl, only to follow it up with recounting his lame family drama. He really was terrible at the whole speaking to girls thing...

Steve howled at the sight though, and Sodapop chuckled softly; that of which only made him more uncomfortable with the sudden conversation change.

Steve feigned a gasp upon regaining his composure.

"I know that look. What'd you do, propose?"

It was Two-Bit's turn to howl.

"Ah, shut up." Ponyboy threw an empty can in his friend's direction. "We just talked about school, y'know… nothin' real interesting." He lied easily, stuffing a piece of cake in his mouth.

"Real gentlemen, this kid." Steve rolled his eyes, "Hangin' around those squares at Will Roger's is makin' you boring, smartass. Gonna hold her books too?"

"Y'know, I think I missed the point where "smartass" became some kinda nickname for me."

Two-Bit came waltzing by them just then, humming a tune before breaking out in song. "Maria, I've just met a girl named Maria…" He twirled, spilling a bit of his beer on the tile. "And suddenly that name will never be the same to meeeee,"

"It was Marie, Liberace."

"Close enough." He shrugged, walking back to the main area before plopping down on the floor. "Can we shut up with this girl talk now? Tom and Jerry's on."

No one bothered to tell him he'd started the conversation.

"Ponyboy, you get the mail this mornin'?" Darry spoke.

He looked at Steve, who didn't return his gaze.

"Uh, yeah—- nothin' good though."

* * *

**Quick Author's note**: Ah, still not happy with this chapter, but after going through and re-writing it three times, I figured it was time to stop being so picky. For those who have seen the 1960 film "Splendor in the Grass", I'd just like to make a point that this story (while _slightly_ inspired) will not have the same main plotline. It will have common themes throughout, but this particular story is based more upon the poem by William Wordsworth rather than the Elia Kazan film. That being said, this story is one that will explore and develop the characters we all know and love from the novel "The Outsiders" written by S.E. Hinton, and all rights are reserved to her estate.

Thank you to everyone who read! Don't feel obligated to review, but I would appreciate it loads if you did :)


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